


the slate will soon be clean

by laminy



Series: a sight of a light at the end of a tunnel [1]
Category: 6 Underground (2019)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21787219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laminy/pseuds/laminy
Summary: After Seven saves Four's life in Hong Kong, Four feels like he owes him his life. He might feel something else for him too.
Relationships: Four | Billy/Seven | Blaine (6 Underground)
Series: a sight of a light at the end of a tunnel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590112
Comments: 49
Kudos: 343





	the slate will soon be clean

Four swallows hard, watching Seven. He can’t decide whether to think of him as that or as— no, maybe just Seven. He never thought he’d get used to Four either, but at the same time, he never really felt like a Billy, despite Seven’s claims that he looks like one.

They’ve landed near Tyrus, four days to go until Day of the Dead. Right now, it’s just prep work and planning. He’s got blueprints and photos spread out in front of him to help figure out his path from the ground to the satellite dish where he’s got to get the inverter in place. Surprisingly, for the shit One’s had him do so far, this part doesn’t actually look that difficult. The hard part will be not getting caught. But he’s not really that worried.

Not about that, anyway.

Seven is sitting a few feet away, with his gun, as usual, but he’s also got something laid out on the table in front of him. Four’s not really sure what. He doesn’t think Seven is here for tech shit, but whatever he’s doing, they can certainly use him. He’s proved his worth to Four, at least. Hopefully the others appreciate what Seven did for him, even if One doesn’t.

He’s thanked him already, of course he has. Four drums his fingers on his legs a couple times, and then decides _fuck it_ ; when you owe someone your life, thanking them once more won’t hurt. He pushes himself up, walking over to him. “Hey, mate,” he says quietly, and Seven looks up from his work.

“Hey,” Seven says, “how you feeling, man?”

Four shrugs, reaching up to push his hair back a bit. “Alive,” he says. Maybe a bit more of a depressing answer than Seven was looking for, but at the moment, it’s the best he's got.

Seven looks at him for a moment, and then his face erupts into a grin. “Haha, yeah, that’s— well, that’s good.” He laughs a bit, shifting in his chair.

“Better than the alternative,” Four says, and Seven immediately loses the smile.

“Right,” Seven says quietly. He raps his knuckles on the table a couple times, and Four feels like a fucking idiot.

Four shifts on his feet. He could probably walk away now, and just politely leave Seven to whatever he’s working on, but he finds he doesn’t want to walk away from him just yet. “I wanted to thank you again,” Four says, and Seven just shrugs.

“You don’t have to,” he says. Like it’s not a big deal that Four almost died and Seven saved his life at least _twice_ in the span of what— thirty minutes? If that.

“But I do,” Four says, leaning against the table Seven’s sitting at, crossing his arms. “I— I really do.”

Seven shakes his head faintly. “I did what was right,” he continues.

“Yeah well, then you’d be the first person who thought keeping me alive was the _right_ thing to do,” Four says, and he can hear how bitter he sounds. So can Seven; Four can see it in the way he slumps back a bit in his chair, looking at Four with a look of pity. “I...” Four just shakes his head. “Never mind, mate,” he says. “Thanks.” Four pushes himself away from the table and walks back to where he was sitting. But he ignores his spot at his table and keeps walking, heading outside instead.

He genuinely has no idea how the fuck One finds these places, or really where they even are right now. There isn’t much to do; their plane is there, they’ve got this…headquarters set up — Four feels like he’s in a bloody James Bond film all the time. They’re operating out of a secret lair, for Christ’s sake. But the point is, there’s shit all for him to do. The best he’s got is an old shipping container with a couple crates and a tire stacked up against the side. He’s got no intention of jumping on it; if the tire doesn’t have enough pressure, or is at just the wrong angle, he could end up rolling his ankle, or worse. But he walks over anyway, ducking his head into the container. Empty. Great. He walks in anyway, because he could really use the space.

“Hey Billy,” Seven says suddenly from behind him, and Four jumps and twists to look at him. “Sorry,” he says, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

Four shakes his head. “You didn’t,” he says.

“Right,” Seven says. “Okay. Anyway. I just wanted to come out here, you don’t— you didn’t have to run off like that, okay?

“Wasn’t running off, mate,” Four says. “Just spent all day on a plane, need to stretch my legs.”

“Fair enough,” Seven says, “that’s probably more important for you than the rest of us.”

“Right,” Four says, bouncing up and down a couple times on the balls of his feet, “gotta stay loose.”

Seven smiles faintly, watching Four. “Sure,” he says. “Are you ready?”

Four shrugs. “Will be,” he says. He opens his mouth to speak and then decides against it, looking down.

“What?” Seven asks, taking a step towards him.

“Nothing,” For says, looking back up. “Just…I don’t know, kind of fucked up, isn’t it? Never really thought I’d be one for the whole _saving the world_ thing. Now I’m— risking my life to try.” He swallows hard. “Guess you’re used to that sort of thing, though.”

“A bit,” Seven says. “Probably more than you, yeah.”

Four nods slowly and turns to look around again at the shipping container, before he looks back at Seven. “I guess it’s sort of a good thing that we’re already dead. My mum won’t have to cry again.”

“So it sounds like you’ve sort of accepted it, then,” Seven says.

“What?” Four asks.

“That you’re gonna die.”

Four shrugs. “I don’t _want_ to, but it’s…becoming obvious that we might be outmatched.” He scoffs a bit. “Or at least _I_ am. Bloody hell.” He looks down again, scuffing the toe of his trainer across the floor, making a mark in the dust. “You’ll make out alright, though. So will Two, I bet. She seems too…angry to die.”

Seven laughs softly. “No, man, you’ll— you’ll be alright,” he says. Silence fills the air for a few moments before he speaks again. “Were you afraid?” he asks.

“Nope,” Four says, popping his lips a bit.

“Really,” Seven says, sounding more amused than anything.

“Can’t be afraid when you do what I do,” Four says.

“Oh yeah?” Seven asks. “Why’s that?”

Four looks up at him, swallowing hard. “If you’re scared, you die,” he says. “When you jump, it’s like— if you stop to think, for even a second, you hesitate, maybe you miss your landing. You slip. You fall. That’s why I practice so much down here. So I _know_ I can do it up there.”

Seven nods slowly, taking in Four’s words. “In my line of work,” he starts finally, “I think being afraid is what keeps you alive. Being on edge, prepared for danger, it heightens your senses. Makes you ready for what’s coming.” He thinks for another moment. “So you’re never scared.” Four shakes his head. “Ever? Alright then.” Seven smirks, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I believe it or not, but alright.”

“Hit me,” Four says.

Seven snorts. “What?”

“Come on,” Four says. “Hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Billy,” Seven says.

“Come on,” Four says, “I can take a punch.”

“I’m sure you can,” Seven says, “but that’s not the p—” He swings his fist out towards Four’s face, stopping maybe an inch from his nose. Four blinks, and sways back a bit, but that’s it. “Okay,” Seven says, dropping his hand. “Maybe I believe you. That’s pretty fucked up, though.”

“Yeah,” Four says softly. Seven turns and starts to walk back out of the shipping container, and Four follows a couple feet behind him. He’s not sure what makes him say it, but he also doesn’t want the conversation to end. It’s like he can tell that Seven…maybe not _likes_ him, maybe not yet, but cares, at least, in some way. Like he would listen if Four kept talking. Four’s not used to that. “But also, maybe I’m just _really_ good at lying,” he says.

“Yeah?” Seven asks, glancing over at him. “About what?”

Four shrugs. “Everything,” he says. “Maybe it’s like a trick— maybe I am afraid, but I tell myself I’m not.”

“Why?” Seven asks.

“Don’t know,” Four says. “Not worth much otherwise, am I? I’m afraid of falling, you think One’s gonna keep me around?”

“I think One’s…not making all the decisions around here anymore, Billy,” Seven says. “And there’s nothing wrong with being afraid.”

“I didn’t really care about dying,” Four says. “The stupid shit I’ve done, just sort of seemed inevitable, you know?” He shifts on his feet, looking down at the ground. “I didn’t really realize until…my lungs.”

Seven frowns, looking at him. “Your lungs?” he echoes.

“In the pool,” Four says, looking back up. “I could hear you. Counting how long I’d been in there. At first it was fine, I assumed they’d…move on. And they didn’t. My lungs,” he says, lifting his hand, waving at his chest. “All I could think about was opening my mouth and taking a breath.”

“I wasn’t going to watch you drown in front of me,” Seven says.

“I still didn’t think much about it at the time,” Four continues, “still had too much shit to get done. Didn’t really think about it when I had Murat either. But once I realized the zip-line was cut, and I’d have to run, it really hit me, like…fuck.” He shakes his head a bit, looking at Seven. “I— I was going to die.”

“You were—” Seven starts, but Four cuts him off.

“I was going to die,” Four says. “And I would be dead if it weren’t for you.” He looks at him. Both of them know it’s true, so he’s not sure why Seven is so set on denying it. “Nobody else in that car was going to stop for me,” he continues. “And even if they had, nobody else could make that shot.” He takes a deep breath. “Never really owed anyone my life before.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Billy,” Seven says, shaking his head. “You— I wasn’t— I’m not walking away.”

“From any of us,” Four says.

“Right,” Seven says. His tongue comes out to wet his lips and he gently clears his throat. “But…”

“But?” Four asks, maybe sounding just a bit too hopeful. He hates the way it comes out. 

“But…” Seven takes a breath, shaking his head a bit. “Uh, you know. Let’s just say that, if I had to, I _would_ save One. I just…enjoyed saving you more.” He gives Four a quick smile, and then turns to walk back. He makes it a few feet before Four speaks again.

“I lied,” Four says.

“Yeah, I know,” Seven says, not turning around. “You’re not as good at it as you think.”

“I don’t want to die,” Four says, and Seven stops again, turning back around. “That’s— I don’t want to die.”

“Then don’t,” Seven says.

Four scoffs. “Not sure it’s that easy, mate,” he says. “You didn’t see what happened to Six.”

Seven smiles, and shrugs. “No,” he says, “but Six didn’t have me.”

Four shakes his head a bit. “Not really sure that would have mattered.”

Seven sighs a bit, walking back to where Four is still standing, the spot he can’t move from because he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s following Seven around. “Billy,” he says. Four swallows hard. “I’m not going to let you die.” Four blinks at him, and then Seven lifts his hand, resting it on Four’s shoulder, thumb swiping against the spot where Four’s shirt has loosened, exposing just a bit of his collarbone.

“It might not be up to you,” Four says, shifting on his feet, inching just a bit closer to Seven. “Or me.”

Seven shakes his head. “Maybe not,” he says softly. “But the part that _is_ up to me? You’re not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Four breathes out.

“Okay,” Seven says, and they stand there for a few moments longer, looking at each other. 

“Before you did it,” Four says, “did you think about what your life would be like after?”

“What do you mean?” Seven asks, and he finally lets his hand slip from Four.

Four looks down, watching Seven’s hand fall back to his side, and then he looks up. “Just…we can’t have normal lives now, you know. There are things we won’t— we can never do. Things we can’t have.” Seven just looks at him, waiting for Four to continue. “Two and Three are lucky, is all,” he says softly, looking away.

“Yeah,” Seven says, “they are.” He turns and walks away, and Four sighs, shaking his head. _That’s that, then_ , he thinks. He wasn’t sure what he expected— hell, he wasn’t even sure what he _wanted_. But it’s clear now that—

“All the times you’ve jumped,” Seven says, and Four looks over at him. “Every time you’ve landed perfectly.” Four doesn’t say anything, unsure of what exactly Seven means. “Sounds like you’re pretty lucky to me.” He smiles at Four, and turns around, walking away again.

Four stands there for a moment, and then he huffs a quiet laugh, smiling as he watches Seven walk away. Just maybe, then.

“Billy!” Seven calls behind him, not looking back. “Are you coming in or not?”

Four reaches up, pushing his hair back from his forehead, hurrying forward. Then he slows down, trying to not look _too_ eager. He looks over at Seven, who’s holding the door open for him, an amused smile on his face. _Fuck it_ , Four thinks. He could be dead in four days. He speeds up again, a bit of a bounce in his step, a smile on his face as he walks by Seven. He’s never really thought of himself as lucky, but hey, maybe he is.

**Author's Note:**

> • I have written this with the full knowledge that it is for me and probably me only, this will not take off.  
> • just after I saw it earlier this week, I was like, oh my god, Seven saved his life, oh my god, they're in love.  
> • I legit left the theatre like, I am so into this ship, and I had to write this. purely self-indulgent!  
> • just boyfriends saving their boyfriend's life. repeatedly. Michael Bay got me with this shit.


End file.
